


White Feathers

by alien_muse



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Aromantic, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley and Aziraphale being drunk, Crowley doing pranks, Crowley in a dress, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nonbinary Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Relationships, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, and they are both, basically there are wings you got me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alien_muse/pseuds/alien_muse
Summary: Crowley thinks his wings are turning white because he doesn't do anything diabolical anymore. Aziraphale is trying to help.





	White Feathers

One of the disadvantages of Crowley visiting him almost every other day, Aziraphale had to admit, was that the demon started to _get ideas_.

Oh, nothing particularly diabolical, but it was obvious that Crowley was going through a crisis of what to do with himself after the Apocalypse, since he didn't want to assist Hell in getting more souls Down There and had no intention of going around blessing everyone to good deeds until his wings fall off. But he _was_ a demon so his natural state was to slip a little bit to occasional mischief here and there.

Aziraphale observed his bowtie, miraculously going from a classical beige checkered to a ridiculous spiral pattern and sighed. At least Crowley didn't replace his entire wardrobe this time; moreover, it wasn't that the demon hadn't thought of it but simply because the last time angel caught him (it was somewhere in the 1950th) Aziraphale made Crowley promise to never do such a thing again.

Crowley loved getting people worked up, so it was nothing unusual, but the fact that he started doing it to his friend was alarming, indicating a state of deep boredom. Not that Crowley didn't do that before, he certainly did. However, he tended to go for the biggest prank he could think of and then went easy on his angel for a couple of decades.

The bowtie was nothing, comparing to the last week, even considering that those events weren't precisely directed at Aziraphale, though most of it had been happening in his presence.

On Monday, Crowley came to his shop wearing a skirt. It earned him a raised eyebrow but only because Aziraphale hadn't seen the demon put on anything distinctively female for more than a thousand years (except for the nanny cover but it was different from simply doing it for himself) and he only slightly wondered about the change before deciding that anything was better than sulking and attempts to make him wear a t-shirt with "I am no angel" written on the front.

The skirt was long and lovely; Aziraphale even complimented Crowley about it, which, as he later found out, was a mistake.

On Tuesday, the skirt was shorter. Crowley was sprawling on the leather sofa, his boots up the coffee table, reading a comic book. Of course, a comic book - "a graphic novel" - was a pass at Aziraphale's direction which the angel most elegantly ignored. (Aziraphale's bookshop, naturally, didn't sell any of so-called novels.)

Aziraphale even politely asked Crowley about it. The demon said it was called "Sunstone". The angel regretted asking when the words "BDSM" and "erotic novel" went down the demon's tongue.

On Wednesday, the skirt was knee-long. Aziraphale was a bit afraid of what the next day would bring, following the pattern. His customers, however, were pretty impressed as it was.

One of them crashed into the shelf, causing the books to fall out and Aziraphale wouldn't leave it without comment if they didn't miraculously return on their places a moment after. Crowley smiled at that poor women, she blushed and left the bookshop without buying anything. Aziraphale had no complaints.

The next victim of Crowley's dashing look was his old customer who collected books himself and was persistent enough to cause the angel to give in a few times. Aziraphale loathed those times deeply and immensely enjoyed the picture of him freezing in place, staring at Crowley as if he had seen a poisonous snake and storming out in holy rage, rumbling something about "what's this world coming to", "knew he was that way" and "bloody unsuitable for a man". The angel could see Crowley smiling behind a book.

On Thursday, Aziraphale found out that his expectations about the skirt's length were correct. Crowley put on a black denim skirt and a wide belt that had a snake plaque that looked surprisingly good together. However, he escaped any commentary from the angel by adding the patterned leggins to finish the outfit. His boots also went higher and had a heavier look than the previous ones.

When they went out to a local cafe to have some lunch, eyes were following Crowley all the way and even for Aziraphale it was perfectly understandable: the usual swaying walk looked even more alluring now than in his tight jeans. Yes, angels had eyes too. The demon tried his best to look _nonchalante_ but Aziraphale could feel the smugness illuminating from him, along with all the people's emotions, positive and negative alike.  
They stopped for some ice cream.  
"Are you a man or a woman?" said a kid with genuine curiosity.  
Crowley's fingers were already on his eyeglasses, ready to pull them off, and the words "I'm a demon, kid" started forming in his mouth, when Aziraphale took his hand and dragged him along the street.

"What, I was just going to expand that kid's binary vision of the world!" protested Crowley, nevertheless letting Aziraphale lead him by arm to the outdoor cafe that had absolutely fantastic strawberry cake.  
"I am sure you were, darling," said Aziraphale. "I merely thought that an explanation of the existence of angels and demons, as well as our bodily mechanics, would take too much of our time."

On Friday, they were going to the Ritz.  
"Oh, you look utterly marvellous, my dear!" exclaimed Aziraphale, not capable of holding his delight at the sight of Crowley in a dress.

The dress, of course, was black. It left Crowley's shoulders completely in the view, all that pale skin and sharp angles of the collarbone and the blades, between which there was a golden snake. The hair, miraculously long again, fell down in big curls. Aziraphale simply shook his head in awe when Crowley turned around to show off.

At the Ritz, Crowley was slowly sipping his coffee and drinking in all the disbelief, all the anger, lust, shame, all the disturbance he was causing. Some were muttering to each other or themselves. Some ignored him after a while or at all.

Their waiter was slightly smiling, obviously having the time of his life, or at least his shift. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, I think we're finished here, aren't we, angel?" Aziraphale was battling up the cake and winning, though with some difficulty due to the previously emptied dishes.

Crowley placed a hand on his angel's lower back as they were leaving.

He caught a hot string of jealousy from a woman at the corner table and pressed down the impulse to come and tell her that Aziraphale was fantastic, thank you very much; and yes, fantastic in everything, including bed - not that Crowley actually knew, but he was ready to defend his angel's honour and even outright lying wouldn't stop him (he was a demon, after all). Besides, he was pretty sure Aziraphale in his bed would do quite nicely: all those curves seemed perfect for cuddling close and sleeping right next to. The only reason he didn't rush to explain all that to the woman was a much better thought of putting a hand on Aziraphale's soft waist and pulling them tighter together.

"You're having fun tonight," noted Aziraphale on that gesture but didn't move away.  
Crowley beamed at him. "But they are being so easy!" The angel sighed in response. "Oh, come on, angel, it's not like you're not enjoying that too."

Aziraphale thought about it as they were walking to the Bently. "I suppose, I do rather enjoy your excitement, my dear, but all that negativity is making me..."  
"Hungry?" Crowley grinned, opening the car's door for him in the most gentlemanly fashion.  
Aziraphale gave him a disapproving look and took the passenger seat. "Not hungry, no. Uncomfortable."  
The demon smiled, leaving unsaid an obvious comment about the straightforward connection between Aziraphale being uncomfortable and feeling peckish, and took the Bently on the road.

 _"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things..."_ started Mercury as they sped up and rode to Crowley's flat.

 _"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely_  
_(One two three four five six seven eight nine o' clock)_  
_I will pay the bill, you taste the wine_  
_Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely_  
_Just take me back to yours that will be fine..."_

The song was visibly pushing Crowley's buttons and the angel observed him with interest. He rarely saw the demon is such a good mood.

"What?" said Crowley. His lips were noticeably up despite all his effort to look indifferent.  
"I am simply glad it is pulling you out of the sulking state and gives you something to entertain yourself," Aziraphale said, smiling, and then added, "Lover boy."  
"It's because we are going to get smashingly drunk tonight, _angel_ ," Crowley grinned.  
"Of course, we are," said Aziraphale, thinking about how convenient it was for the demon that 'angel' was an endearment, as well as a correct form of address. He tried one time to raise the issue but later found out than he was referred to as "an egg with eyes" [5] for the whole week and that was it. Crowley had to read him a half-an-hour lecture about the origins of the endearment and find book sources to back it up before Aziraphale accepted his apologies.

And then they got smashingly drunk indeed.

"No, you don't undersstand," insisted Crowley, aggressively waving his glass in the air. He was still wearing a dress; only the sunglasses and the heels were absent from his outfit. His yellow cat-like eyes hypnotically stared at Aziraphale, trying to get him to believe some drunken idea, but the angel was too smart to blindly take anything from a demon who was so drunk that accentuated his point by gesturing with his wings instead of hands half the time. "I can feel them getting whiter!"

Aziraphale tried to focus his gaze on Crowley's wings but they kept moving before his eyes. "Alright, let me check," he finally gave up. "Please, try not to send me flying across the room."  
"Okay," agreed Crowley, moving closer as the angel tried to inspect his black feathers for any sign of becoming paler.  
"There isn't one single white feather," said Aziraphale after a few minutes spent half intensely staring at the wobbly wings, half trying not to fall onto the demon's lap.  
"'re th're any grey onesss?" asked Crowley with suspicion. The angel was being too specific.  
"Are you drunk?" said Aziraphale. "Demons don't age. You are a demon."

Crowley shrugged, almost hitting the angel with the wing, finished off the glass and poured himself another. "You are an angel. A Pr- principle-" Demon tried again, slower, "Prin-ci-pa-li-ty."  
"Excellent, my dear," praised his effort Aziraphale.  
Crowley blushed. "Th'nksss." It took him a minute to return to the original thought. "So. You are an angel. You have white wings."  
"That's correct," Aziraphale nodded and drank more wine.  
"I did the wrong thing. Deb- debatable. But!" he raised his glass. "I became a demon. Black wings." He demonstrated as if Aziraphale had no idea otherwise. "Are ssupossss- meant to do wrong things. But the Apocalypse. Stopping it; the right thing. You following?"  
"Hmm." The angel was listening intently.  
"And I had done nothing wrong for the last month. Nothing." Crowley sounded very sad so Aziraphale decided to comfort him with a pat on the shoulder but miscalculated the distance and instead pulled the demon into a hug.

"I am sure you've done plenty of wrong things, my dear boy," reassured him Aziraphale. "I was very upset about my bowtie."  
"Sssorry," Crowley said pretty sincerely. "Had to. Don't wanna my wings go white."  
"Of course. I understand, darling." Aziraphale stroked Crowley's curls tenderly. Since they were miraculous, they didn't require any gel to stay the way they were at the start of the evening and were as soft as the demon's usual hair.

"Have you tried under the feathers?" suddenly asked Crowley.  
"Hm?" Aziraphale made a questioning noise. He was pretty much content sitting on the demon's lap, with a head practically on the demon's shoulder, letting bright ginger locks go through the fingers. Crowley seemed to be taken by the example because Aziraphale could feel the demon's cold touch on his neck, loosely playing with hair that was much shorter.

"The white spots could be under the first layer," Crowley explained.  
"Hmm," said Aziraphale who was at that moment completely immersed into the pleasure of sensual experiences.  
"We should check," continued the thought Crowley. He shook his angel a little bit.  
Aziraphale sighed. "Alright, you restless demon."  
Crowley grinned.  
The angel sat straighter and tried to concentrate but without losing the blessed drunken state because he was going to need it very soon.

The angelic/demonic wings are fragile as well as greatly strong. If you are standing on a way of an angel flexing their wings, you should probably get out of there if your plans don't include months in the hospital bed. If they do, congratulations. Doctors would be wondering for a long time at the injuries you receive.  
Angels and demons are different from birds. Their wings are also their most vulnerable place, physically and celestially, and are meant to be touched only by the closest person, in case they are hurt or need preening. In both cases, it wouldn't make matters worse to be pleasant. 

So, naturally, it felt very good for the wings to be touched gently, and Aziraphale tried to be as gentle as he could be.

He could feel Crowley leaning on him, silky softness of the dress, and almost murmuring somewhere deep in his throat.  
"Angel, you are ssooo good," the demon hissed involuntarily. "Could you pleassse do it again?"  
Aziraphale sighed and repeated the movement closer to the demon's spine, where the absence of fabric gave full access to the wings; convenient. Crowley put his hands over the angel's shoulders and got completely relaxed and quiet, except the occasional noises of pleasure.  
"Are you sure I'm looking for white feathers and not giving you a wing rub?" asked Aziraphale, though he minded very little.  
"Mm," answered Crowley.

Aziraphale raised his eyes heavenwards and pulled the feather in the base lightly. Crowley positively shuddered against him. "Mm, too much. Can you do it a little bit to the right?"  
The angel understood the situation and did it a little bit to the right. "You know, dear, you could just ask me to do it instead of coming up with some bizarre idea about having white feathers."

"Are they any?" Crowley raised his head in worry.  
"No."  
"Good." He laid his head back. "Thanks for doing it. It feels so pleasant, after a long break."

Aziraphale forgot about the white feathers nonsense and started to enjoy the texture of the wings. The tips pleasantly slid through his fingers, giving a light tickling sensation; Crowley completely relaxed and his weight felt nice against the angel's body. His breath was very calm and the happy noises came in a quiet rhythm.

"Maybe we should do a regular check-up on you," said Aziraphale.  
"You think?"  
The angel could sense Crowley smile. "I do."  
"Then we should check you too. Just in case."  
"Just in case," agreed Aziraphale. He couldn't help but twitched his wings in anticipation. Crowley caressed the feathers' edges where he could easily reach out, but soon closed his eyes and just laid there in absolute bliss.

"I think we should get you to bed, darling," said Aziraphale after a few minutes.  
"Ttssh, angel, I'm afterglowing," mumbled Crowley.  
"I'm not sure that's a word," Aziraphale pointed out. He got an absent humming in response and sighed. "As much as I enjoy it now, you cannot sleep on my shoulder all night."  
The next humming noise sounded like a challenge but was too content to get anywhere near the needed determination. He felt Crowley pressing closer.  
"You're so soft," the demon muttered in his neck.  
"Dear..." Aziraphale patted his shoulder. "Let's get you to bed. The bed is much softer, I assure you."  
"Okay," finally said Crowley, thankfully without pouting.

They got to the bedroom without much difficulty and the demon immediately thrown himself on the bed, getting under the cool blanket. Aziraphale miraculously changed the dress for a more suitable attire, gazed at the perfectly content demon, smiled and left the room looking for the book he left at Crowley's place last time and a nice cup of tea.

In the morning, Aziraphale told Crowley that the count for white features was currently none.  
Crowley believed him, of course. But, just in case, he sneaked out, got a signed first edition copy of Dawkins' "The God Delusion" angel furiously ranted about for years and hid in on a shelf of Aziraphale's bookshop, instantly feeling much better.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. "Sunstone" is a real-life comic, you should definitely check it out. It's about two women exploring BDSM, lesbian relationships and love with each other. I don't know if it exists in a printed form, I've read it a couple of years ago and in Russian.  
> 2\. The dress Crowley goes to Ritz in I sneaked from my partner who wrote for me a pretty drabble where Az was totally mesmerised with the demon's attire and overall look. It's in Russian and it's private so that's probably the only version you will see on the internet.)  
> 3\. I don't know how trans*people are treated at fancy restaurants, considering the time (21st century) and the place (the UK, London). I wouldn't try anything like that in Russia, especially in smaller cities, it could end pretty badly.  
> 4\. To all the comic books and graphic novels lovers: no offence meant, just a joke. Visual art is a perfectly valid way to tell stories. Also, graphic novels are a marketing thing and "Sunstone" is not a graphic novel. Thanks for pointing it out, AnnieLermont.)  
> 5\. "Egg with eyes" - "Tamago gata no kao" in Japanese. It's an endearment because an oval-shaped face was considered attractive.  
> 6\. The song is Queen's "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy". It's perfect for them.
> 
> Please, leave comments with your thoughts, feedback makes me very happy. What are your favourite bits?


End file.
